Dying Alone
by estrafalaria103
Summary: Part two of my version of S3, picks up right where Living Together left off. The questions continue: what did the button do, who are the Others, and what does Penny Widmore want? Meanwhile Charlie and Claire continue to test their relationship, Sawyer and
1. Chapter 1

**_Hey, guys, I'm finally back! Here's the continuation to my earlier story, Living Together, which covers my version of the first six episodes for Season Three. So, if you haven't read that one, definitely recommended._**

**_Sorry it's been a while. Mexico's beautiful, but the US is lovely. So. Sit back, enjoy, and sorry, this first chapter's a bit short. Still getting back into the swing of things! Reviews, as always, are appreciated._**

The camp was a mess. The baby was screaming, Rose was yelling needlessly, and Locke kept muttering weird, cryptic messages. Bernard was ready to pull out the little hair he had remaining.

"Let's calm down," he said. Nobody listened to him. Not that it was any surprise, Bernard thought with a sigh. When had anyone listened to him?

Jin came up and began babbling something, his pretty little wife at his side. She just looked at Bernard, a pleading gaze in her eyes. But she didn't _say_ anything. Bernard shook his head. Well, if she couldn't be bothered to translate, then he couldn't be bothered to help. Locke continued to mutter. Everyone else continued to yell.

"Calm down!" Bernard roared this time, and surprisingly everyone quieted down and turned to look at him. He took a quick inventory. Out of the original 46 survivors, he only had about twenty in the caves with him. And now every single one was staring at him with wide open eyes.

"Calm down," he said again. Everybody, thirsty for leadership, came to gather around him. Bernard couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. On the one hand, there was no more noise. On the other hand, he had no idea what to do.

"What's going on?" a small, mousy looking woman asked. Bernard considered the question. Jack, Sawyer, Kate and Hurley had headed out to find the Others again. Charlie and Claire were running around looking for hatch survivors. Sayid and Neil had just disappeared in the middle of the night. Janelle was watching a camp fire. Michael had sailed away into the vast unknown. So basically, an awful lot was going on.

"Nothing horrible," was what he said. "We just need to continue on like we have been. Neil's taking care of the fire down at the beach, and Sayid will handle the hatch. We just keep gathering fruit and cooking boar."

"But John catches the boar," said a beefy looking guy, looking significantly toward the slumbering Locke.

"And Kate gets the fruit," another woman piped up.

"And Jack's the doctor," Rose added. Bernard rolled his eyes. She shrugged her shoulders. "Just saying, honey."

"Well, I think we can all manage to pick fruit," Bernard said. The woman looked like she was getting ready to argue that point, but apparently thought better of it and nodded her head. A baby suddenly screamed.

"Oh, Aaron!" Sun gasped, and suddenly ran off after him. Jin followed, still muttering in his weird language.

"For now, though," Bernard said, looking significantly outside, toward the dark, shadow obscured trees. "I think it's better if we all just get some sleep. Tomorrow, when there's light, you'll see. It's not so bad."

"No, we've just been stuck on an island for three months without rescue. Really, not bad at all," one man mumbled.

Bernard decided to ignore him. Something he'd said seemed to stick with the survivors, for they all wandered over to their blankets, and settled down. Bernard turned to his wife, waiting for some kind of affirmation, a nice little "job well done." Instead, she stared at him, with eyes wide. One hand slowly crept toward her belly, and she frowned, a brief wave of pain washing over her face.

"Honey," she said, and Bernard swore he could see her face go three shades paler in just a moment. "I think I need to sit down. I'm not really feeling so. . .so well."

He carefully aided her over to her bed, and sat her down. "Are you okay?" he asked, worried eyes glancing over her shuddering form. She forced a smile, though he could tell easily it was more for his benefit than anything else.

"I'll be fine," she said. "I'm sure I'm just tired. Why don't you check on Mr. John and Mr. Eko."

"All right," he said. He loved Rose, but he knew better than anyone that sometimes she just needed to be alone, just needed that time to herself. He patted her hand gently, before going to see the two sleeping men.

Mr. Eko's eyes were closed, his lips tightly pursed together. In sleep, he looked even more serious than life. Breath stirred gently between his lips. But when Bernard turned to look at Locke, he was surprised to see the man's eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey there," Bernard said with a smile. "How you feeling?"

"I'm not," Locke said. Bernard froze for a moment. Locke was prone to speaking in weird riddles, but this was easily one of the weirdest.

"Excuse me?"

Locke turned his head to look at the other man, but his gaze seemed far away, focused on some distant object. "My legs," he said dully. "Everything hurts except. . .I can't _feel my legs_."

It had been an annoying week for Penelope Widmore. First she'd had those stupid Portugese men calling to tell her about the island appearing. She'd called up Daddy, and he'd reminded her that now it was her responsibility, the project was her problem, and she should get up and take care of it. So she'd gotten up (in the middle of the night, no less! When Charles Widmore said to do something, you _do_ it), left a note for Daniel, and hopped on the charter plane.

Eight hours later she'd discovered that the dolts had gotten on a _boat_ to go find the island. On their own. So she'd had to commission a fucking boat and head out after them. With no more than cell phones and short wave radio, she'd been forced to find another boat. In the Pacific Ocean. Lovely.

Then, when she'd finally tracked them down, they'd had passengers. So she'd had to talk to them, found out that the directions weren't exactly the same as the radio seemed to show, and had turned the whole crew around. Add on to that a day and a half of hiking through a god-forsaken jungle, and she was not happy.

Then to find out her scientists were being held, not even at _gunpoint_ but at _stickpoint_ and she was ready to be done with the whole thing. So when Rico pulled out his gun and Sandro viciously clubbed some normal-looking guy she didn't even argue. She was actually almost glad.

She spotted Gale immediately upon entering the clearing. He looked thinner than she'd last seen him, and infinitely crazier. Plus, he was screaming louder than a banshee. The kid, meanwhile, seemed to decide this was a party, and was happily waving at everyone as though they were long-lost friends.

"Would somebody stop that racket?" Penny asked, motioning with her head toward the screaming scientist. A handsome, Middle Eastern man stared at her for a moment, before walking toward the man and swiftly hitting him over the head. She arched one eyebrow in approval and nodded. Not bad. She'd always liked men of action.

"Now then," she said. "Who are you people, what are you doing on my island, and why the hell did you stop pushing the button?"

"I'd like to ask the same of you," another man said. Also handsome. Penny sighed. What was this, the island of lost hotties? This one had short-cut hair, and was leaning heavily on the fat one (definitely not hot).

"I asked first," she pointed out, feeling eerily like a seventh grader.

"We're survivors of a plane crash," a little, curly-haired girl said. "Oceanic flight 815."

Penny stopped for a minute, and stared at the girl. Flight 815. . .that had been plastered all over the news. The new Bermuda triangle, this plane that was flying to Los Angelos and just zap bam boom disappeared.

"No way," she muttered. "How many of you were there?"

"Well, there were 46," the girl said, and looked nervously toward Mr. Buzzhead. "But some. . .died. Jack?"

"Forty now," Mr. Buzzhead said.

"Hmm," Penny turned to Rico. "Do you think that boat could hold 36 more people?"

"Sí, probably," he said.

"Wait. . ." Miss Teen America interrupted. "Why only 36?"

"Oh, well you four will be staying with me," Penny said brightly. "Mr. Oz over there messed up royally, but we still need you for our tests. But don't worry. I'll see to it that your friends get home safe and sound."

Claire was getting worried. It had been a good half hour, and Charlie still hadn't come out. She glances down the hole again. He said it was too narrow for too people. But really, she was fairly small, wasn't she? And Charlie was a hobbit himself, so really, it couldn't be too small for the two of _them_, could it be. And maybe he needed help. And maybe he didn't. But maybe

Just as she had resolved to put her head down the hatch, a head of blond hair appeared. "Charlie!" she gasped, fighting the urge to clap her hands together. There he was, looking up at her and grinning with that dopey, crooked smile.

"And look who I've got!" he said, giving a tug on some dark figure. "Bloody heavy bugger," he muttered.

"Charlie, language!" Claire scolded. She reached down to help him, and a moment later they had pulled Desmond free. "He's not looking so good, is he?" Claire said. Charlie sighed.

"No. We'll get him back to the caves. Maybe Jack can do something."

"Yes, maybe," Claire agreed. "Except that Jack's still missing, remember."

A cough from Desmond stopped their conversation, as they both looked at him worriedly.

"Well, either way," Charlie reasoned. "He's better off with everyone else and the medicine than here. So let's get a hop on and move him back."

"All right," Claire agreed. They each grabbed one of the Scotman's arms and pulled it over a shoulder, before beginning the arduous journey back through the jungle. "I just hope that Jack gets back soon."


	2. Chapter 2

"Now this is just getting ridiculous," Sawyer complained. The Portuguese man guarding him just poked him in the back, forcing him forward again. Inwardly, Jack groaned. Why did the redneck always insist on making a nuisance out of himself? Couldn't he ever just take a step back and think?

"This really isn't necessary," Jack pointed out to the woman. She glanced back at him. She really was beautiful, he noticed. Long wavy copper hair and blue blue eyes. She didn't look like she belonged on a desert island.

Then again, he reminded himself, none of them looked like they belonged here. Or at least, they hadn't when they'd first crashed. Besides, she was making it perfectly obviously that it was her decision to be there.

"Oh, so I'm just supposed to believe that you wouldn't try to escape?" she asked, a little sneer on her face as she said it. Definitely didn't look as beautiful with a smirk he decided.

"Jack doesn't lie," Kate said softly. Jack's heart warmed instantly at that. So, despite everything that seemed to be going on between her and Sawyer, there was still something there. Something. That didn't mean that he missed Sawyer's immediate jerk of his head. Jack was nothing if not observant.

"And we're back to the doc-worship," the redneck muttered.

"Excuse me," Neil suddenly spoke up. The man hadn't said anything since their capture, and looked almost nervous when the woman turned to glare back at him. "Um. . .didn't you say that you don't need most of us? So why don't you just. . .let us go?"

The woman laughed at that, walked over to the former Frogurt king, and pinched his cheeks. Jack blinked. Had that just happened?

"You're cute," she said. "What's your name?"

"Neil," he said. Jack noticed that a second name wasn't added. That was good. Useless, probably, since the woman obviously knew more than they could really understand, but still a good idea. "What's yours?"

Surprisingly, she answered. "Penelope."

"Do you have a last name?" Neil asked.

"Do you?"

Touche, Jack thought, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face. He didn't appreciate the rope tied around his wrists, nor the rifle pushed into his lower back, but somehow he didn't feel threatened. The atmosphere was so much different than the Others. He trusted Penelope. IT was completely irrational, but there it was.

Penelope quickly walked forward to the lead again, and motioned for everyone to continue following. Jack took advantage of the brief lull to look over at Kate. She didn't look frightened, either. Strands of curly brown hair had broken loose from the ponytail, and were draped loosely over her shoulder. She smiled over at him.

"I'll get us out of this," Jack said. He winced at how silly that sounded, how pompous and consciously heroic. Thankfully, Kate didn't laugh at him, she just retained that gentle smile and nodded her head.

"Yeah, 'cuz you did such a good job last time," Sawyer scoffed.

"We do not need to turn on ourselves here," Sayid interrupted before a real argument could start up. "We need to remain united."

"Yeah, well, I've never been much of a team player," Sawyer said, and impatiently picked up his space, putting an immediate distance between himself and the other captives. Somehow, Jack wasn't particularly surprised by his declaration.

"Where does he think that he is going?" Sayid asked, impatience tingeing his normally calm voice.

Personally, Jack didn't think that the question merited an answer. He would be the first to admit that Sawyer had proven himself lately to be trustworthy. He had even developed a certain degree of respect for him. But that didn't mean that they were friends, and the truth was that it was very unlikely they ever would.

"Maybe. . ." kate began to talk, and then abruptly swallowed her words. She shook her head. She didn't seem to know quite where that sentence was headed.

"No," Jack said. "Let's put our heads together. How do we get out of this one?"

"So, dude, you guys almost got away?" Hurley asked, awed by the very idea. "The boat didn't, like, get sucked back to the island or anything?"

"Nope," Walt said, happily. Michael smiled a little to see it. He almost thought that Walt was happier to be back on the island, talking to old friends, than he had been at the possibility of escaping. "Dad and I got all the way to the ocean before running into Rico and Rodrigo."

"Whoa. . ." Hurley shook his head, still amazed. He looked over at Michael. "That sucks, man. That you got picked up again."

"Yeah," Michael agreed. But the strange thing was that he didn't feel all that upset being back on the island. Which was strange. Since day one he'd been fighting to get off, but somehow. . .the truth was. . .he was almost _glad_ to be back. He was definitely glad to see that the four friends he'd abandoned on the pier were okay. True, the only one willing to talk to him was Hurley, but at least they were alive.

"It's good to be back," Walt said. "I really like it here. Hey! How's Mr. Locke doing?"

Hurley, meanwhile, seemed to have noticed something. He was staring down at Michael's son, a weird expression on his broad face. He squinted a little, shook his head, and squinted again. Then he reached out one meaty hand, and held it just an inch or so above the boy's head.

"Dude," he said. "How much have you grown?"

"I'm ten years old, Hurley," Walt pointed out. "I'm supposed to grow."

"Yeah," hurley said. "Guess so."

But the words stuck with Michael, and he took a closer look at his son himself. Walt was bigger, too much to be explained by a month. He seemed to have grown almost a foot, and his face had lost a good deal of the residual baby fat. Michael frowned. It probably just seemed weird. After all, what did he know about kids growing? Nothing, really. Maybe such immediate growth spurts were normal.

"So when are we going back to the beach, Dad?" Walt asked. It took the boy two times to ask the question before Michael jerked back to the moment. "Dad?"

No, Michael thought. He had nothing to worry about. This was still his son.

He'd show them, Sawyer thought angrily. He was almost walking too quickly for the asshole pointing a gun at him to keep up. He almost didn't notice. He did, of course. His life was noticing details, so he didn't miss it. But almost. Which just went to show how pissed off he was.

Jackass was back. Just when he'd finally gotten on the verge of almost _liking_ the good old doc, he'd turned back into Captain Hero. And Freckles was falling for it all over again. Not that it mattered what Pippi Longstocking though. He'd been alone before. It was how he did.

What he did not do, however, was the whole prisoner thing. He'd spent a few years in the slammer. Didn't want to go back there. And the rope looped around his wrists was just a little too jailbird for him. So, while the other saps were standing around yakking, he was going to sniff out a solution.

"So, Penny," he said, drawing up alongside the woman. She glanced at him out the sides of her eyes, but didn't say anything. He smiled. Flash a girl the dimples, and she'd always melt. Even Freckles was a sucker for them.

"Do you always like dragging innocent people through the jungle, or is this a one-time deal?"

"Shouldn't you be talking to your little friends?" she asked. A bit haughty, really, for a woman accompanied by a pair of Spanish-speaking freaks. Come to think of it, where was Julio Iglesias anyway? Turning around, he realized that his captor was no longer sticking a damn rifle in his back.

"Sugar, you ain't afraid of me?" he asked, almost disbelievingly. Penelope laughed, a rich, dark sound. Judging from that laugh, that, body, and those rocks hanging in her ears, Sawyer decided that she was just his kind of mark. Rich and pretty.

"Why would I be afraid of my own prisoner?" She asked.

"Some people say I'm a dangerous man," he said, voice low and hoarse. "with any type of gun."

"Are you coming onto me?" Penelope asked, sounding amazed.

"Gets lonely on this here island," he said. "A new face is always welcome."

"Well, it's not going to work," she said harshly. "Sorry."

"Oh, has the pretty little Patton got herself a man back home?" he asked. "He ain't here, though, is he? Just you and me, baby."

"There is no you and me," she said harshly. "There's me, and a too-talkative prisoner."

"We don't got to talk," Sawyer pointed out. "Plenty of other ways to get to know each other."

Penelope laughed. Sawyer stopped walking for a moment, completely astounded by that response. Sure, he'd been slapped before, he'd been spit upon, he'd been ignored, but nobody had ever actually _laughed_.

"You're persistent, aren't you?" she asked.

"When I know what I want," he said, trying to regain his equilibrium. It wasn't quite his best line, but he was still a little surprised.

"So you're flirting with me to try and get me on your side," she said slowly. "You want me to undo those ropes, and then you'll just jaunt off."

"Well, I'll admit, the rope does chafe a bit."

Penelope shook her head, still giggling a little. Sawyer's smile widened. He'd been worried with that initial laugh, but she was in his pocket. Now if he could just figure out how to get his shirt off, he'd have her sold.

"Well, it's not going to work," she said.

"Oh, come on, baby. I ain't going nowhere. You've got all the guns."

She looked at him for a moment, eyebrows arched.

"Oh, fine," she said. One or two more little giggles, and then she pulled out a little pocketknife and quickly sliced through the bonds. "Feel better?"

He rubbed his hands together, and resisted the urge to run off into the jungle. He didn't owe any loyalty to Jackass or Captain Falafel, but he couldn't just leave them. Besides, he couldn't stand the thought of Freckles just standing there, green eyes all wide and frightened. No, he'd show them that anyone could play the hero.

Besides, this Penny girl wasn't too bad to look at. This con might actually be a bit of fun.

Bernard was tired of listening to everyone complain. Locke wouldn't stop whining about his legs, the baby wouldn't stop screeching, and everyone else had come up with at least one complaint. Plus, Janelle had come back (completely inappropriate, the way that girl couldn't seem to find a shirt that fit) and kept asking where Neil and Sawyer were. She probably wanted to see if she could get a job for the night.

"Aren't you worried about them?" she asked, arms crossed, pushing up her. . .assets. "They've been gone two days now."

"There's nothing we can do about it," Bernard reasoned.

"We could go look for that."

"Great idea. An old man and a half-naked girl." Oops. Had that last bit come out? He'd just meant to say girl. Oops. Janelle didn't seem too insulted, though. She just shrugged.

"You've got a point. Besides, somebody has to keep these cretins in line, right?"

Bernard made a mental note to look up cretin when he got home. His BS and MD hadn't really worked his vocabulary too much.

"You look kind of tired," Janelle mused. "why don't you go sit down with your wife, relax a little. I'll take care of things."

On the one hand Bernard was reluctant to relinquish the reigns of control. Especially not to a former Hooters worker. But he was worried about Rose. She'd retired to a corner after talking to him, and was now huddled up into a tight ball, her arms wrapped tightly around her body. So he nodded, almost nervously, and went back to that corner himself.

"How are you doing?" he asked Rose. She smiled up at him, that brave little smile that he loved so much.

"Oh, I'm okay, honey," she said. He wasn't convinced. She shooed him, a slight little gesture of her hand. "Go on. Get back to solving everyone's problems."

"Only one person's problems concern me," he said. "And that's you."

Rose smiled again, and reached out. She grabbed his hand, and gently squeezed it. "You're a good man, Bernard," she said. "A very good man."

He smiled. He didn't really know why, but tears came to his eyes.

Just then there was commotion at the front of the cave. Bernard half stood up, and then turned back to his wife, looking for permission. She gave it, of course, and actually pushed him a little in the back.

He hurried over to where everyone had gathered around the entrance.

"Look out, please," a sweet Australian voice rose above the murmurs. "We just need to get him lying down. Is that my baby crying?"

"I'm sorry," Sun said apologetically, forcing her way to the front, Aaron clutched tightly in her arms. "He seems fine."

Claire, amazingly, didn't freak out for once. Bernard was impressed. She just glanced at the baby once, and then continued into the cave. It was only then that the dentist noticed the heavy arm thrown over her shoulders. She shuffled in slowly, Charlie just behind them, another man huddled between them. It took Bernard a couple glances to see that it was the crazy Scottish man who had washed up on their beach just a few days earlier.

"Yup," Charlie said, sounding pretty proud of himself. "We found Desmond, just me and Claire. Watch out, now, got to let him down."

Bernard, like the rest of the survivors, walked out of the way and let them through. He should have known that ignoring John Locke was a bad idea, when something so important was going on.

Just as Desmond was lain down on a couch, Locke sat bolt upright, and stared angrily at the unconscious man.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he yelled. He fell out of bed, and crawled angrily across the floor. "You bastard!" he was almost screaming now. Janelle ran to his side, and grabbed him from behind, hauling him back onto the bed. He continued to yell. "Why didn't you tell me?"

And then, amazingly, John Locke began to cry.


End file.
